I Feel You Near
by hl-gray
Summary: A re-imagination of 3x15: Walk on Water. Addison could have been at Seattle Grace Hospital. She could have been helping the victims. But she can't... she couldn't when she became one of the statistics.


I really don't know what specific Trigger Warnings I should mention... except that I'm fully aware that this one-shot should have a Trigger Warning.

In the height of all the possible negativity all around us, it has been said over and over again: seek out and tell someone you love them. Someone out there might be feeling alone, feeling like they have no one who cares for them. And seeking out, to help, or any form of communication matters a lot. Cliche lines, but they are true...

For that someone feeling alone: In _Dear Evan Hansen's_ words, _"You are not alone, you will be found, you're you_ — _and that's enough."_

* * *

Just like any other day, she felt like she shouldn't go out of her hotel room. Every day here in Seattle seems to be a drag for her. She knows she doesn't belong here, yet, she can't—for the life of her—bring herself to just go away.

It seems as if Addison Forbes-Montgomery doesn't belong anywhere anymore. She belongs nowhere. The only person who she ascribed to as "home" for a third of her life just… wasn't there anymore. Suddenly, the winds changed and he's not there anymore. Addison feels tempted to say that it all just went downhill out of nowhere… but it really wasn't like that. It was a long time coming—as if Addison saw it before it even _started_ to happen, and she just stood and watched, all numb and resigned.

It was all her fault—there was no one to blame but her, that's for certain. She saw it coming—she should have done something. She should have tried harder to entice Derek, to _keep_ her husband satisfied. Those were the two things she should have done but didn't… _or can't?_

Addison unwillingly lifted herself from the hotel bed, in which she had been sleeping on for months now. It was pathetic—to classify a hotel room as home… with literally no one she could confide to. Or maybe, that was just her—she feels like she carries the world's weight and she's not about to let anyone carry some for her. She's too much of a burden.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and she felt even more depressed with what she saw. Staring back at her was an old lady—to old for her age. It was as if everything about her is going down, sagging, that one day, she feels like she would not be able to bare her weight and would resort to crawling. As if the gravity connected with her heart and pulled it down until it pasted itself right on the ground.

The simplest things makes Addison want to cry. As if a little poke would cause her to burst, to just let go, not minding whether there is someone to catch her when she falls.

 _No one. No one would._

 _And you couldn't. It's too much of a bother. You ruin everything, remember? You're Satan. The ruler of all that is evil. You're at the top of the evilest people. You're the main reason why everyone is so miserable._

 _Can you not be so egocentric for just one second, Addison?_

She could go missing now and she would bet her life no one would notice. No one would notice how Seattle Grace's Neonatal surgeon went missing.

 _No one cares, Addie. No one fucking cares._

It would actually be a great progress to human kind—the ruler of all that is evil is gone, and everything is just so fucking _McPerfect_.

She applied her foundation, put a bit more concealer than she normally does before, illuminating powder, peach-colored eye shadows and mascara to make her eyes pop, light shade lipstick—enough to cover her pale lips…

 _There. As if nothing too depressing is happening inside._

She smiled at herself in the mirror, practicing her work smile, making it a bit friendly. _Perfect, Addie. No one would notice._

 _As if someone would even fucking bother to care to notice._

She took a deep breath, willing the lump on her throat to go away, to not trigger her tear ducts.

 _You're just going outside, Addison. Scared of the light?_

 _Huh, typical Satan. Scared of the light. It might burn you… some other way._

She took a step inside Seattle Grace. Right in front of her was the perfect couple, and that just did it for the day. She walked away before anyone could even catch sight of her ( _Nobody bothers, nobody cares, Addison!_ ) and drove to the one place that would.

* * *

"Page Dr. Montgomery!"

Alex Karev's voice kept repeating—like a broken record. The fifth time Derek Shepherd heard it, it felt as if his stomach churned painfully. Was Addison not answering? Derek took a deep breath, closing his eyes, focusing. Before, when they were in the first glorious years of their marriage, he liked to believe that he and Addison shared something special. And he had convinced himself—and had tried to convince Addison but constantly failed—how he can always sense Addison because they're soul mates. That's just how it is. And now, he can't accept that he cannot feel that kind of comfort sensing Addison makes him feel.

 _It's just your nerves, Derek. She's there._

"She's not responding!"

 _Where are you, Addie?_

"Where the fuck is she?" The frantic atmosphere spreading in the Seattle Grace's Emergency Room was affecting every single one. The ferry accident hit a little too close to home—the rising statistics of death and critical conditions were uncontrollable. It was as if an epidemic attacked the hospital, and no doctor was even prepared to deal with it. Accidents are accidents—unexpected.

"She's crashing!"

"Where's my son?!"

"I need a crash cart!"

"Can you tell me…"

"Pulse ox is low!"

"Sir, can you hear me?"

"Stay with me!"

He was desperately looking for a flaring red hair around the ER, but he cannot find one. It usually comes easy, finding his wife anywhere… _ex-wife_. He wants to ignore it, but his stomach continued to churn painfully, as is his heart weighing heavily. He feels suffocated.

 _If I could just turn Seattle upside down and search for Addie at this moment…_

"Dr. Shepherd, we need you." His eyes refocused and he saw a nurse—he can't make himself try to remember his name—looking at him intensely. He just made a weird sound at the back of his throat, trying to come up with something, before resorting to nodding—the only thing possible to be done right now.

Ferry… Addison…

 _Please, God, no._

* * *

When she was a kid, she wanted to think of the future. She could not see herself as a teacher, so that was not the career she pursued. There were times when she tries to "sense" whether she's deserving of something, and often times, her attempt to "sense" things becomes successful. She did have a wonderful career as a doctor.

Though, half of the time, it just fails her. Sensing became her comfort, her own way of saying "you can go somewhere, you can go out of here" to herself. And when it fails her, she feels suffocated, because she "can't see the future." It was the eccentric side, the dark side, the ugly side of her that she never wanted anyone to see. Except of course, Derek Shepherd.

 _Derek Shepherd—the exception to anything regarding Addison Forbes-Montgomery._

Why wasn't she able to sense that the way she would go was being crashed by a hundred ton metal?

 _Why couldn't I just go away? Everything hurts. Am I supposed to know a certain code for me to pass through doors and just… go to sleep forever? Not wake up?_

 _Figures Satan's downfall would be the most painful—the torturing kind of way._

 _You deserve every pain, Addison._

She stared at the ceiling. She's blinded by the pain, and she doesn't know where she is. She can't think, can't remember, past the pain. It's as if she's been living in it forever.

 _Nobody noticed, Addison, see?_

Her thoughts became her companion—the only thing to keep her mind away from the pain, and it was just sad. No one will be there to alleviate her pain, and she'd pass through life alone with no one mourning, wailing for her to come back. She'd have to go through this alone because she deserves it, with all the pain she inflicted in this world.

 _Torture_ , that's how she should be punished. And it's currently happening.

* * *

Isobel Stevens stood still. It was a scene cut from a disaster movie—and she was right at the middle. She was that character stuck, frozen, just watching the frenzy environment exhaust itself. It was that kind of blurry effect, and she was overwhelmed with emotions and scenes and actions that she just can't literally move.

And in a cliché moment, someone snapped her out of her reverie as her ears zoomed to the words the man who bumped into her was saying.

"You're a good doctor, you're good doctor, right? Yeah?" Izzie could only just nod. "They won't hear—they won't listen! You listen, alright, you hear me?" Just to appease the bloodied man's panicked state, she nodded once again.

"There's a lady, trapped. She's alive, there." Izzie turned to the direction the man was pointing. "She's alive, she was moaning, I promised her I would find help—they won't let me go back! Please, she's trapped, she can't move, she's alive! Please, go! Listen to me," the man pleaded.

"I—I—" Izzie stuttered. She turned to George, who sent her an apologetic look and lead the man away from her. Her heart beat fast, and she was conflicted.

After a few seconds of contemplation, she turned, grabbed her kit, and ran.

* * *

The ER doors burst open, managing to catch the attention of those near enough to it. Adding to the hectic ER was the crazed Dr. Isobel Stevens, whose clothes were covered with blood. Those who doesn't recognize her as a doctor (if it wasn't for her kit and ID and of course, the gurney she's helping to push), one would think she's the one in need of medical attention.

"I need some help here!" Izzie exclaimed. She was surprised to see Dr. Miranda Bailey rush over to her, accompanied by George. _How much time did she spend there?_

"Run down, Stevens!" Miranda exclaimed. The intern went from urgent to still in a matter of seconds after seeing Miranda. _Nazi…_

"Addison Montgomery…" Stevens continued talking. Miranda tried to be as attentive as possible. She resolved to staring at the woman lying on the gurney, still not able to believe that her friend, colleague, Addison Montgomery, was lying incredibly still and having a hell of a fight for her life.

"Page Dr. Shepherd!"

* * *

 _Amidst the cries that had been playing as the background song for her untimely yet low key anticipated demise, all Addison can hear is the water's collision to the metals of the ferry. If only the tortured cries of those with her in the ferry would stop, Addison would exclaim how this would be the most peaceful death anyone could have. Dying by the sea… or body of water._

 _Her entire body is numbed now, and with the years she spent to become who she is right now, it's a miracle that she's still not dead. The heavy weight on her chest, her crushed ribs, should have killed her instantly. But who wants a quick go for Satan? No one. Everyone wants to see Satan suffer. Suffer like all the rest of the world._

 _There was an odd sound—it was odd because she can't identify what it is. It was new beat to the rhythm formed by the cries and the water._

 _"Addison…" The voice. It's there. The moment she heard it, she realized her eyes had been closed this entire time. She opened it, and just found out how it was blurry… as if she's wearing frosted glass for eyeglasses. But, everything boils down to someone finding her… maybe._

 _No one would dare even mind you, Addie. What sensible person would waste their time like that? There are other more precious things to mind… like other people._

 _"Addison… hear…"Addison couldn't make out the figure. Was all this a hallucination? Is this it?_

 _Of course it is, Addie._

 _The now blurry vision was dimming, and Addison's heart lurches. It was scary, yet somehow… peaceful. Like she's at the curtain call of her favorite musical… what was it…_

 _"…with…" The sound felt like hearing from underwater. The water around her traps the sound and she can't do nothing about it. What's so great about the water? Nothing. She hates rain… making her technically hate water. Logic is really taking a hit today._

 _Figures that the place where she died was in somewhere she had never spent more than five years at. Figures it would be somewhere she hates, somewhere where rain doesn't stop._

 _The lights went on again… yet this time it was blinding. It's time for us to stand, the stage was once again curtained. Only seconds before the actors would come out, yet it's taking so long. Addison can't wait… she had… to… get… away._

* * *

Derek wanted to scream.

If he had to graph his life, it would a chart to laugh at. There's a constant rise… and the peak, the highest, went on for a while, became constant, that the peak—the supposed pleasurable—became normal…

New York and Seattle made that normalcy take a sharp turn, a sharp decline, one where the variables met… at their extremes. With Y going back to the zero… but this time, not the start. It's the end.

Maybe that's not really his life he's graphing. Maybe it was his relationship with Addie.

Or his life since he met Addison.

Maybe Addison's graph would be different. It could be a steady inclination and a steady declination. Maybe it would just be a constant. No downs.

It would be devastating or maybe it would be hopeful.

No one knows. He doesn't know.

He won't know.

Derek held her hand until he can't anymore. He watched them rush her to an OR, one where he dared not go, where he's not supposed to go, where he cannot go.

He sat on the floor. He made his choice. He chose her. Just like how he did the first time. Only this time, no what ifs lingered. No tempting rebellion hiding under his bed, tickling his feet. This time he chose with a clear head, and he chose his first choice once again.

 _There's no room for helping._

 _Meredith drowned._

 _What?_

 _She was dead for a minute._

She can swim.

* * *

 _"Do you love ferries?"_

I don't… kidding.

I don't… anymore. I used to. But I don't anymore.

 _"We should have dinner… tonight…?"_

I can't—work.

I can't… you're not here anymore.

* * *

He placed lilies in front, polished the ground a bit. Maybe giving up isn't just done in ORs, in lost cause cases.

The last three years proved it to not be so.

"You always kept saying sorry. There are lots of things you wanted to say to me, I know. I saw it in your eyes. And it kills me to know how I'll never be able to know that. I hate that I don't know you anymore... the real you before you went... And now, it's my turn: I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being the one you needed when...

"Someday, we'll meet again. I swear, Addie, I won't give up on us. I won't do the same mistake twice. Another chance is all I'm asking… I know, you can't give me that anymore. But, I know, I can sense you, you're still here with me. There are a lot of things that we could have done just for this not—

"We should have had lots of years ahead. You won't be here anymore and… and it feels like I also won't be…

"Someday, Addie, we'll meet. Or… soon."


End file.
